Just So You Know
by kelhome
Summary: Tag to 5.08. Sam has some instructions for Dean, you know, just in case.


It was dark, probably close to 3:00 am, and Dean was nowhere near asleep. _The Trickster was Arch Angel Gabriel? Just when you thought life couldn't get any weirder…_Someone else dropping from the heavens or climbing from the pit to tell him and Sam how things were going to be. 'Play your role…It's what you were meant to do…' Blah, blah, blah. And, the more everyone told him to just suck it up and bend over for destiny, the more Dean was determined that he and Sammy would go their own way, thanks. Of course, what that looked like, he didn't really know yet. He just knew he wasn't going to be Michael's vessel. And, Sam, well, Lucifer himself was coming for Sam…So, he tossed and turned and tried to think of anything that might help them out of the coming horror show.

Sam sighed for about the fiftieth time, and shifted in the bed across from him. It was no surprise he was having trouble sleeping, too. Dean wondered if they should just turn on the t.v. and admit that neither one of them could sleep worth a damn tonight.

Sam's voice came softly, "Dean?"

"Yeah."

"Can I…I need to talk to you about something."

_Uh oh. These conversations never went anywhere good. _"About what?"

"You know. What the Trick--, what Gabriel said, about us."

Dean sat up and turned on the light. It cast a dim, but welcome light over the motel room. If they were going to have this little chat, Dean wanted to be able to see Sam. The kid's face said at least as much as his words. "I told him and I'll tell you. What they expect from us, what they want us to do, it's bullshit. Just because they're lining us up to use in their little family squabble ---"

Sam sat up, as well. He held up his hand. "Dean, please. Just, listen to me a minute, okay?"

And there they were. Sam's sad puppy eyes were going to plead for something he wasn't going to like. But, Dean could let him say his piece before he shot it down. "Go ahead, then."

Sam nodded. "I want you to know, that, if, for whatever reason, Lucifer gets me to say 'yes,'---"

"Sam…"

Sam held up his hand again. "If he gets me to let him in somehow, I want you to waste him. Me, us, whatever. Don't you hesitate because that asshole looks like me. I'll be gone. And, if not gone, I'll be wishing I was gone, you know? So, I just wanted you to know, that's what I would want. In case…that's all."

Dean's gut churned, he tried to see past the 'no, no, HELL no' that ran through his head. "Sam, I hear what you're saying, okay? But, it's not going to get to that."

Sam smiled his sad, 'I-wish-that-were-true-but-it's-not' smile. "Dean, let's be honest. I haven't exactly proven myself immune to the will of demons and angels. Don't get me wrong, I'll give it everything to say 'no.' I promise, I will. But, if he gets in, don't you hesitate. Smoke him. I don't care if you have to burn him alive, you do it. Alright?"

Dean stared at him, tried to picture the scenario he was describing. He'd had his glimpse of Lucifer in Sam's body, when Castiel had sent him into the future. He knew what it felt like to stand there and see that evil bastard looking out at him through Sam's eyes. Could he kill that guy? Could he kill someone wearing his little brother? He certainly hadn't been able to so far. _Why does it keep coming down to this? _

Sam was watching him. "Dean, you have to."

Dean looked away. "Sam…"

And Sam leaned forward, earnest in his argument. "Dean, it won't be me. It isn't a betrayal of me. It's saving me. It's doing what I would do if I could."

Dean looked back at him. "Sam, this is all theoretical. We are going to beat these bastards at their own game. Let's not look for nightmare scenarios just yet, okay?"

"Dean, you remember what Gabriel said? That we were just like Michael and Lucifer, two brothers who betrayed each other? I was confused by that, because, yeah, I've betrayed you. Hell, I can admit that. It isn't pretty, but there it is. But, _you've_ never betrayed _me. _So, that didn't make sense. Then, I thought, maybe you would think of this, your killing Lucifer in me, as a betrayal. But, it wouldn't be. I just wanted to make sure you get that. Killing that bastard? That would be _saving _me. Just like you've always promised me. Just like you promised Dad."

Dean couldn't speak. He couldn't fathom it. He really couldn't. Putting a bullet in Sam's head? Even wearing Lucifer? He just didn't think it could happen. It was his Achilles, and everyone seemed to know it, heaven and hell alike.

As usual, Sam read him easy as a newspaper. "Dean, my whole life, even before I was born, demons and angels have been using me. They've fucked with my free will by giving me demon blood, which, frankly, has sometimes skewed my ability to tell right from wrong. They've ridden my ass _my whole life._ If Lucifer gets in, I'm done. There is no more _me. _It may suck for you, but you're the only one who can help me at that point." He laughed a weak, 'you believe this shit?' laugh. "Killing me, killing Lucifer, would finally set me free."

"Can I speak now?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Of course."

Dean stood up, paced back and forth at the foot of their beds. "Sam, I understand what you're saying. I know why you're saying it. To be honest, in theory, I agree with you. I know that wasting you, or Lucifer in you or whatever, is the right thing to do. But, it's important that you believe it's not going to come to that. Because if you give up before we even get into this thing, I don't think ---"

Sam sat up straighter. "I'm not giving up."

Dean sighed, sat on the foot of his bed. "You can't, Sam. Really. If we're going to get through this, I need to know that you can see a way through all this, that we're in this together. If you throw in the towel ---"

Sam slid over, moved closer to where Dean perched on the end of his bed. "Dean, as long as I can, I'll fight with you, side by side, I promise." He put his hand on Dean's shoulder until Dean looked over at him. "Dean, I promise. I won't give up without a hell of a fight. But ---"

"Then, can you stop with this 'kill me' shit? Jesus, man. What is it with you?" Dean closed his eyes, felt the weight of Sam's hand on his shoulder. He drew strength from that small thing. He wasn't alone. They could do this. If Sam stuck with him, they could figure this out. Maybe even live through it. He breathed deeply, felt himself settle. He opened his eyes and smirked at Sam. "Feels like every two weeks you come at me with 'kill me, Dean! Kill me!' God. Such a drama queen."

Sam's eyes went wide for a moment, there was a long pause, then he was suppressing a grin and looking down at his feet. "Yeah, well, I have self-esteem issues, I guess."

Dean tsked. "Tell me about it."

Sam looked over at him. He smiled a real smile. "You know, Dean, you've really handled a lot of crap from me. And, because of me. And, I'm pretty amazed, really, that you haven't run for the freakin' hills."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, well. I'm exceptional. And, you're my brother. So, shut up."

Sam nodded. "Thanks."

Dean looked at him a long moment. "You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam tilted his head, considering. "It's like, on the one hand, I got all this dark shit heaped on me by destiny and demons and whatever. And then, on the other hand…' He looked over at Dean. "I got you. So, I always come out ahead, you know?"

Dean couldn't help it. Sam's words gave him a gooey, warm feeling. When he looked over at him, thought he could see, even in the dim light, a blush painting Sam's cheeks. He felt his own heat in return. There was a reason they didn't say this shit out loud. He cleared his throat. "Damn right you do. Now, think you can stop jawing and get some sleep? We have an apocalypse to deal with, angels to resist, demons to kill…Ring a bell?"

Sam fell back on his pillow. "You were the one who turned on the light."

Dean stood up, went to the lamp and snapped it off. "You were the one who wanted to _talk._"

Sam gave a quiet laugh. "Night, Dean."

Dean got back in bed, pulled his blankets up. Tomorrow was another day. They would figure this thing out, find a way to keep the world from dying. Maybe even live through it, themselves. As long as neither one of them gave up. "Night, Sammy."

THE END


End file.
